


Old Rose Coloured Wrapping Paper is Preserved for Jolly Good Fellows Only

by Silverinia



Category: The Good Fight (TV), The Good Wife (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Love, Married Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-19 06:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18132164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverinia/pseuds/Silverinia
Summary: References to episode 3x01 'The One About the Recent Troubles', which I loved btw, just like everyone else._____Ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha. Ha?Now, isn't that just hilarious? They give us one episode with domestic McHart and suddenly I'm writing fluff. I've NEVER done that before. The apocalypse is near, my friends. The suffering will be over soon.Soo, let's get real, the title of this is just antic. I mean, they always are when we're talking about my fics but this one is particularly... I don't even have a word for it. I'm laughing and crying at the same time. I don't know how other writers do it, coming up with cool fic names, and I will never stop being jealous. Guys, what's your secret? Is there someone I need to sacrifice at the full moon to be granted that gift? Is there a fountain on the top of a mountain in New Zealand that I need to drink from?God, I'm a mess... I'm just bad at naming things so I usually go for something that's at least so freaking ridiculous that it's hopefully funny somehow in like a very sad way...?Uhm... well, here you go. I'm sorry if it's bad. But I'll be happy if some of you like it. Was kinda fun to write, to be honest.This is also actually meant as a bit of Kurt-appreciation. So, cheers to Kurt McVeigh! A man's man. A real man.Enjoy (?)





	Old Rose Coloured Wrapping Paper is Preserved for Jolly Good Fellows Only

**Author's Note:**

> References to episode 3x01 'The One About the Recent Troubles', which I loved btw, just like everyone else.  
> _____
> 
> Ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha. Ha?
> 
> Now, isn't that just hilarious? They give us one episode with domestic McHart and suddenly I'm writing fluff. I've NEVER done that before. The apocalypse is near, my friends. The suffering will be over soon.
> 
> Soo, let's get real, the title of this is just antic. I mean, they always are when we're talking about my fics but this one is particularly... I don't even have a word for it. I'm laughing and crying at the same time. I don't know how other writers do it, coming up with cool fic names, and I will never stop being jealous. Guys, what's your secret? Is there someone I need to sacrifice at the full moon to be granted that gift? Is there a fountain on the top of a mountain in New Zealand that I need to drink from?  
> God, I'm a mess... I'm just bad at naming things so I usually go for something that's at least so freaking ridiculous that it's hopefully funny somehow in like a very sad way...?
> 
> Uhm... well, here you go. I'm sorry if it's bad. But I'll be happy if some of you like it. Was kinda fun to write, to be honest.
> 
> This is also actually meant as a bit of Kurt-appreciation. So, cheers to Kurt McVeigh! A man's man. A real man.
> 
> Enjoy (?)

He woke up that morning to an unpleasant and stinging smell that made his eyes water behind closed eyelids. A small frown of confusion formed on his forehead before he even had the chance to gain a first grip on reality, right after his five-hour-long repose.  
  
A small sound, something gruff between a groan and a sigh, escaped his throat in his mild frustration about whatever the hell it was that had dared to pull him out of his sleep before his alarm had even gone off. Slowly, he shifted to his side beneath the soft and heavy silk sheets, his body naturally seeking hers out as the first act in the morning- or night, he honestly would not know-, his eyes remaining closed as he did.  
  
It had become a new part of their shared routine, of their everyday life. Another fresh layer of domestic intimacy that they had found together. Snuggling in the morning, relishing in the feeling of the soft streaks of sunlight that shone into the bedroom through the sheer curtains that were not really all that effective but that she had found to match the colour palette they-and first and foremost her-had decided on for the room perfectly, warming their bodies beneath the bedsheets as they kept on relaxing in the presence of each other before their responsibilities would force them to get up and start their day.  
  
Now that they were living together full-time, they finally had the luxury to do this. Waking up together and using the state of sleepy dizzyness they would still be in to let themselves feel each other's warmth, each other's breathing and the endless comfort of love that those simple and existential things so easily washed them in, without having to worry about what the day would bring yet.  
  
Every now and then, he would now find himself setting his alarm clock for the following day for about an hour before either of them actually needed to get up, just to make sure that he would not have to miss out on this. Whenever she would ask him about it, he always told her that he had forgotten that they actually had a little more time to sleep at those days and she would pretend that she believed him, even though she was fully aware that it was not true.  
  
She loved those moments in which they could just lay there together in the carelessness of the early hour, loved those moments that they could use to gain this one certain kind of easement that only they could bring to each other, loved them too much to risk giving him the impression of that she did not enjoy them just as much as he did, loved _him_ too much to risk missing out on waking up to the feeling of his strong arm wrapping gently and carefully and with no intention of actually waking her, around her abdomen, to the feeling of being pulled a little closer into his warm and comfortable embrace, of his front pressing suavely against her back, his body curving into hers as though they had once been formed to fit the other's as perfectly as they did, the feeling of his warm breathing spilling against her neck, washing her in a feeling she had never quite experienced in the overwhelming way in which he was making her feel it, until she had met him all of those years ago.  
  
Happiness.  
  
She would never wake up to the sound of his alarm clock that went off far before they needed to get up. He always made sure that it was not loud enough to wake her, knowing very well how much she needed her sleep with the insane working schedule she had due to her profession and he would never risk taking that away from her. He had always had a lighter sleep than her, had always been more sensitive to sounds of any kind, which was only another testament for the exhaustion she was putting herself through, day after day, a proof of how much her body needed to rest.  
  
What he did not know was that his movements, his embrace in the morning, were always enough to wake her anyway. But she would never tell him that, would always pretend to stay asleep for another few minutes because she was afraid that he would put an end to their little routine if she did, in order to make sure that she would get all the sleep that she could get. He would not understand how much more relaxing the bodily expression of his love and affection towards her had always been and that even the best eight hours of sleep never could have revitalized her as he did. He had never understood just how great the power of the feeling of his love had always been to her, had never really realized how much good and happiness he had always been able to bring to her unconsciously. Just by being there. Just by being there with her.  
  
The funny twist about this was that she had never come to realize that it was the same for him with her, either.  
  
Those little moments during the sunrise did often lead to something more. She would open her eyes eventually and sigh happily to the feeling of his presence, turn around and softly whisper, "Good morning." to him, before he would shoot her a happy smirk and press a soft kiss on her lips. She would respond to him wordlessly by deepening the embrace of their lips, lazily wrapping her arms around his neck and letting her fingers tangle with the soft strands of his silvery grey bed-hair that she loved so, so much, while she inhaled his dizzying scent with every deep and audible breath she would take, the intensity of his knowledge on how to kiss her senseless straining her body in the most pleasant way she could have imagined.  
  
His free hand would brush a few stray locks of her soft, blonde hair out of her face before it would land on the back of her head to pull her into him even more deeply, his other arm beginning to move slightly as his fingers would gently and equally full of need stroke her back over the fabric of her nightshirt, until they would find their way in beneath the silk to reach their desired contact with her smooth skin, the feeling of it beneath his fingertips softer, more satiny and so much more comfortable than any fabric ever would have felt to him. It was as though warm water was running over them, smoothly, unearthly somehow. She felt like he had once imagined the way clouds would feel on his skin if he would ever be able to touch them, many years back when he had been a kid.  
  
She would lift her bare leg and wrap it around his middle, the curve of her knee pressing into his side and her foot coming to rest behind his back as her hips would bump into his, some days more softly, more slowly, on other days more demanding and full of desire that was almost powerful enough to take away her sight, the effect he had on her as blinding as the morning sun, as intense as the one that she herself had on him. The feelings she had for this man, this wonderful, amazing man that she loved so dearly with all her heart, with all of her soul, had always been overwhelming to her. Not unwanted but still always overwhelming, sometimes almost too much for her to take but never really crossing that line. As though she was falling in love with him even more deeply with every day that passed.  
  
They would make love. Slowly and leisurely most of the time, him on top of her, their hips meeting rhythmically in the soft beat of matutinal intimacy. He would brush his thumb over the little birthmark on her cheekbone that he had always loved so much, and lock his eyes with hers, delighting in the way her brow twitched, her parted lips moved in silent gasps and in the way her face cringed with pleasure when he would hit that certain spot inside of her that never failed to take her breath away. The soft moans that escaped her, like music to his ears. The sounds that showed him that he was managing to make her feel the same way she was making him feel, forever his favourite melody of all time.  
  
And after that, when they would have brought each other to their highs, they would kiss again, equally slowly as deeply, equally breathlessly as still full of need and first and foremost full of affection, full of bliss and bare happiness. Their lips would part by inches and they would whisper quiet "I love you"s to each other, sometimes one after another, at other times both of them at once, which would always cause them to chuckle simultaneously, granting them the chance of feeling their hearts beating even more furiously at the sound of the other's giggly joy.  
  
Happiness. It sounded so silly, so cheesy, but somehow, they had found it together and they kept on finding it with every new sunrise, in every new and fresh morning they got to spend together these days.  
  
Happiness. Pure and infinite happiness.  
  
Kurt stretched out his arm, his eyes still closed, until the feeling of a cold, empty bedside caused him to open them. His eyes slowly and hesitantly adjusted to the bright light of the morning sun until he was able to take in the disappointing view of her deserted pillow, a single blonde lock that lay on the silky pillowcase visible to him in the light and seemingly the only reminder, next to the light traces of her sweet scent, of that they had gone to bed together last night at all.  
  
The frown on his forehead deepened and he pushed himself up on one elbow, the thick sheets slightly slipping off of his bare chest as he came into half a seating position. He was just about to call out her name when the unpleasant smell of something he had not been able to identify up until now, hit him simultaneously with a loud crashing sound that suddenly echoed into the room.  
  
It smelled of smoke. Something was burning.  
  
Kurt pushed the covers off of him, jumped up and out of the bed, almost tripping over his own bare feet as he barely came to stand on the carpeted bedroom floor before he was already rushing into the direction of where the strong smell seemed to be emerging from.  
  
He had almost reached the end of the hallway when he heard her muffled shrieks.  
  
_"... fucking shit!"_  
  
"Diane?", he yelled loudly, his panic beginning to get the better of him. "What is happening?"  
  
"Kurt!", her upset voice met him from out of the direction of the kitchen and caused him to run the other way. This damned house really had too many rooms. "Don't come in here!"  
  
Kurt scoffed and hasty steps carried him into the kitchen, the picture with that he was met there instantly washing his panic away with all of its surprising features, it alone almost enough to make him laugh out loud.  
  
Diane was standing between the stove and the kitchen isle, the delicate silk and lace fabric of her short and skimpy, old rose coloured nightie barely enough to cover the upper third of her thin thighs. A few blonde locks were sticking to her cheeks as she struggled to find a way of putting down the sizzling and heavy frying pan that she was holding with both hands, without burning the countertop. The windows were widely opened and two smoke detectors- or what was left of them- lay next to the sink. It looked as though  _someone_ had seen this coming and had prevented that they would go off and wake him by ripping them clumsily out of their attachments.  
  
He walked towards her, trying to bite back a grin and brushed the back of his fingers over her bare upper arm before he stretched out his hand and silently offered her to hand him the pan. The uneasy look in her beautiful, blue eyes intensified a little before a deep sigh escaped her and she gave in, handing him the sizzling pan so he could put it aside without the risk of setting the kitchen on fire.  
  
When he turned back to her, she had folded her arms beneath her chest. Her left brow was furrowed and her gaze was resting on the wooden floor, somewhere in front of her bare, pedicured feet.  
  
"I'm sorry.", she said lowly and up until now he had not really believed that she truly was upset about this, but the remorse that was evident in her voice was more than enough to convince him otherwise.  
  
A soft chuckle escaped him and he stepped closer to her, placing his hands on her upper arms and silently willing her to meet his gaze, which she did. Those beautiful, blue eyes that were always there to invite him to get lost in them.  
  
"For what?", he asked, both amusement and bafflement in his tone that had Diane's frown deepening on her forehead, as though he was missing the obvious in this.  
  
"I wanted to surprise you but I ruined it.", she stated, as though it were a blatant fact, the look of disappointment on her face slowly shifting to perplexity.  
  
Kurt's lips stretched into a small smile and he leaned forward to brush a soft kiss on her forehead. "No, you didn't.", he said, meeting her eyes again.  
  
"Kurt.", she said, arching an eyebrow at him. "Look at that."  
  
His eyes followed the tilt of her head and he took in the plate of what looked similar to but not quite like burned blueberry pancakes that were sitting on a porcelain plate on the counter behind him. He bit his tongue, willing himself not to burst out with laughter because he knew that it would upset her. And so he made a straight face and turned back to her.  
  
He shrugged. "Looks good to me."  
  
Diane rolled her eyes at him and her jaw tensed slightly, her tongue quickly sliding over her bottom lip before she spoke, completely unaware of what that simple movement she unconsciously made was doing to him. "Don't make fun of me.", she said, both annoyance and a hint of hurt in her voice that had Kurt's eyes narrowing at her in confusion.  
  
"I'm not.", he insisted and slowly moved his thumbs in circling motions over her arms, causing the look in her eyes to soften. "It does look good!"  
  
"It's sweet of you to lie. But you were never particularly good at it." The corners of her lips stretched into a soft smile.  
  
Kurt studied her features for a small moment of silence before his hands suddenly left her skin and he spun around, grabbed a fork from the top drawer beneath the counter and was just about to dig into one of the burned, blackish imitations of blueberry pancakes when her fingers firmly curled around his wrist.  
  
"Kurt, no!", she said harshly and his gaze shot to his side to meet hers while she stepped in front of him, her thin frame sneaking into the small space between his body and the counter, never loosening the grip she had on his joint.  
  
One of his brows shot up. "Why not?", he asked and caused her eyes to widen, having her dumbstruck for the better part of a second.  
  
"Kurt, you can't eat that!", she shrieked out, her voice about two octaves higher than it usually was.  
  
"Sure I can."  
  
"No! Listen, I get what you're trying to do, but it's not working and I'd really like this to not be the last birthday you get to celebrate, so drop the damned fork and stop it right now!"  
  
The dark green of his eyes lightened up with an almost mischievous glint. He had her, right where he wanted her to be. "Will you stop being cranky about this if I do?", he asked softly and Diane's jaw dropped.  
  
"I'm not cranky!", she exclaimed, her cracked ego getting the better of her for another moment. Kurt raised eyebrows, silently calling her out on her lie. He just knew her too well. Diane sighed in defeat. "Yeah, okay. If that's what makes you happy."  
  
"It is."  
  
Diane's front teeth clasped her bottom lip and she reluctantly loosened her grip on his wrist and stepped aside, her arm dropping to her right as he placed the fork on the counter, next to the plate of ruined pancakes, a funny smell still originating from them.  
  
Kurt turned to her and snuck his arms around her slim waist, pulling her closer to him and pressing a small kiss on her cheek before his loving gaze locked with hers. Her bottom lip was still captured by her teeth, the glimpse of frustration still laying in the blue of her eyes as she freed it to speak up in a small voice.  
  
"I'm sorry. I just wanted to do something nice for you today."  
  
One of his hands began to move on her hip, his fingers absent-mindedly toying with the thin fabric of her pale, rosy nightie that covered it as a grin formed beneath his moustache. "And I still appreciate it.", he told her honestly, causing her to scoff quietly. Her eyes left his momentarily until they found them again before she spoke.  
  
"Why? I ruined this and I even woke you up because of it, didn't I?"  
  
Kurt tilted his head in amusement. "Yeah, but at least I got to see your pretty face much earlier than I usually do."  
  
One of her eyebrows arched up and his heart swelled up in his chest when he saw her eyes sparkling in exhilaration. "You do know that you don't need to suck up to me to get into my pants, do you? Especially not today."  
  
Kurt chuckled. "I know. Believe it or not, that wasn't my intention." He tilted his head and looked at her intently. "At least not right now. I'll get on it after I've fixed the smoke detectors."  
  
Diane shot him a sweet smile, feigning innocence as she did so. A last sigh escaped her before she raised her hand to let her fingertips brush over his bare upper arm in the most loving way.  
  
"Happy birthday, Kurt.", she said softly, casting him an affectionate look that was laying in the light blue of her eyes.  
  
"Thank you." His gaze wandered down to her reddened bottom lip and up again. "I love you."  
  
"Even though I'm a complete and hopeless disaster in the kitchen?", she asked jokingly, her lips stretching in a lopsided smile, as she caused him to huff out a breath of amusement.  
  
Amusement that soon turned to affection. Affection for this wonderful, wonderful woman. What a privilege it was to be able to hold her in his arms, to be the one for whom she would step out of her comfort zone to try and surprise him and to be the one person that got to witness her flaws that somehow just managed to make her even more perfect.  
  
He could not believe how lucky he was to have found that one person who completed him so entirely and impeccably as she did and to have her allowing him to love her in the way he did. To be granted to wake up next to her sleeping frame in the morning and to end his day by looking at her before he would fall asleep at night. To be the one she would call during her lunch breaks just to check if he was okay, or text during meetings to voice her annoyance. To be the one she came home to and to be allowed to see how, at the end of the day, her appearance, her mannerisms shifted from professional to a private side of that he knew that she preserved it for just very small number of people in her life. How lucky he was that he was one of them.  
  
How damn lucky that she was letting him love her.  
  
She was a gift. And to be the one she had chosen to present with the opportunity of sharing their life with her was the greatest gift anyone could have made him. And she did not even realize it.  
  
But at the very same time, he did not realize that it was just like that for her with him, too.  
  
Kurt dipped his head and gently pressed his lips against hers, relishing in the feeling of skin against skin, in the feeling of her breathing spilling sweetly against his gruff cheek, before he dared to interrupt their moment to move his lips against hers in a soft whisper.  
  
"You have no idea."


End file.
